To Burn Your Kingdom Down
by The Wriiter
Summary: "I know your power," I shouted at him over the howl of the snow and the wind, my own voice trembling. "Because it is what taught me mine." Kylo Ren/OC.
1. I

**To Burn Your Kingdom Down**

 _"I'm afraid you are both my shelter and my storm."  
-_ Unknown

" _Ben_."

He stares at me with a ghoulish, empty darkness in his eyes and I know that I will die.

His eyes look sad. Disturbed.

I look back at him, angered. Disgusted.

"That name means nothing to me now," he barks at me.

He has black and purple rings under his eyes from lack of sleep. He looks so tired, so careworn. Unsure, so haggard. As if at this young age that we both find ourselves, he has seen and done all the horrors in the galaxy. Blood and pain and death flashes in those dark eyes, and for all but a second I catch a glimpse of the boy I once knew; if just for a _moment_ I see the glimpse of the light that still lives on in him. In those dark eyes, I see myself; I see how he used to look at me, how he used to be. I see everything that I once loved. But that glimpse extinguishes like a fire that needs to be put out. He stands tall here in the woods, the night as dark as his eyes as blinding snow whips past us. He looks proud.

No. Not proud.

 _Weak_.

I look at him and I see what he used to be. I see the boy who taught me everything I know, who helped raise me. I see the boy who I loved and laid with, the boy who knew me better than anybody, the boy who knew me inside and out. I see the boy who once made me believe that there was no dark, only light.

He was my teacher. My friend. He was the person I loved.

Now I see a man who I don't know.

He tries to seem powerful, as if the force is strong in him—and it _is,_ I can feel it pulsing through him like a disease—but it is misplaced, and he knows it. He tries to convince himself that he is strong when he knows he is not. He's vulnerable and he is weak and he is foolish. I can see it in his eyes, I can feel it within him.

He knows that he is weak.

He is an eerie shadow of a memory of Vader, a ghost of another Empire and another time. He knows he will never become what Vader once was.

He stands there, tall, in all black, his fabled, dented mask of Kylo Ren thrown at his feet with exasperation.

"You are _not_ Kylo Ren," I spit out the name like it's poison on my lips. "You are not that mask, you are not the dark side, and you are _not_ Snoke. Don't let him inside of your head, Ben!"

His eyes fill with tears. He knows that I'm right. I sense his fear and he senses mine but neither of us back down. His lightsaber, red and crossed at its handle, is ignited and his stance is defensive. Mine is white and drawn, clutched in my hand.

His upper lip trembles and he tries to blink away the tears. "Ben Solo… Ben Solo is dead. He was weak and foolish."

"You _are_ Ben Solo," I say firmly. "And you always will be, no matter how hard you try to run away from it."

He trembles with anger, shaking his head. His voice escalates, so loud and infuriated that it feels like it goes right through me. "You don't… you don't know my _power! You don't understand!_ "

"I know your power," I shout over the howl of the snow and the wind, my own voice trembling. "Because it is what taught me _mine_."

The whispering winds between the trees whips his black hair past his intense, exhausted face. He looks at me like he never has before, and my chest aches when he looks at me like that. The pain of the years gone by makes my heart tremble and my stomach churn. His expression is a tragic concoction of heartbreak, bewilderment and insanity.

 _Anger_.

I withdraw my lightsaber and slowly, so _slowly_ , I saunter to him through this blistering, unforgiving snow, in the darkness of this night. The air is cold, absolutely freezing on my flesh. The woods around us are dark and foreboding, and the air smells like death. He looks disturbed, startled—confused, as I get closer. He doesn't expect me getting so close to him. He doesn't expect me to confront him face-to-face.

He's anxious.

Afraid.

I stop in front of him and look up into those dark eyes. He's always been so much taller. And for a minute we just look at each other. I reach out to cup his cheek—he is quick, grabbing my forearm with a death grip before I can touch him. He squeezes my arm and I gasp aloud, staring into his eyes, desperately searching for any mercy that may still linger there.

"Don't touch me," he says, his voice trembling, cracking with the threat of tears. "I'll die if you touch me."

"Which part of you?" I ask. "Kylo Ren?"

Tears squeeze out of his eyes and slip down his cheeks, but he doesn't falter. He disengages his saber. He searches my face, and his grip softens on my forearm and he hesitantly lets me go. Slowly I reach up to his face, cupping his cheek. I missed the warmth of his flesh, the intimidate understanding of each other that no one else has. He presses his cheek into my hand, seeking salvation, seeking strength and seeking comfort. He shuts his eyes.

"I'm being torn apart," he breathes. "I don't know what to do…"

"Leave the darkness," I implore him. "Leave this place. Let go. There is _nothing_ for you here."

He murmurs, "You don't understand. It is _never_ that simple."

"It is," I beg him. "It's that simple. Come back. We miss you."

He doesn't look moved.

"I miss you."

His eyes search mine.

"I know you feel it," I say to him. "The light."

He nods, ever so slightly. Looking down at me with shifting eyes glistening with tears.

I dare to do what I fear will be my last move.

I link my arms around him, hugging him to me, standing on my tip-toes to hug him. He encompasses me in his arms against his warm, brawny body, his arms wrapped around me like a protective cage. And for a second, everything feels balanced. Nothing feels wrong. I bury my face in the crook of his neck and I feel that familiarity and comfort pulsing through my veins. Hot tears run down my face and stain his neck as we are standing there, embraced together in the cold of the winter night. He puts his chin on my head and holds me tighter.

"You only need to let it in," I whisper.

I almost forget what he has become.

I retreat from him and look up at him, and he presses his forehead to mine, gently, almost as if he has forgotten how to be intimate with another, as if he's forgotten how to be affectionate and to relate.

"This isn't you," I beg. "You know it isn't. Stop trying to pretend to be this person. Stop pretending to be Kylo Ren. You don't belong to the Dark Side, Ben! Release yourself to the light."

"I know what I have to do, but I don't know if I have the strength to do it," he breathes, his voice shaky.

I brush the dark hair out of his face and he closes his eyes at my touch, as if he is mentally trying to grasp onto what we were. "I fear that… I fear that if you choose this I will lose you for good."

He puts his hands on the back of my head and neck and kisses me, briskly taking me into him and I feel nostalgia plague me like an unwelcome visitor. I shut my eyes and tears streak down my cheeks but I feel okay.

Then suddenly, he recoils a bit.

Staring down at me, he is looking at me like I have just _killed_ him, as if he is abhorred at the very sight of me. His brows furrowed and the tears glazing his eyes, his breathing heavy with anger, his hand travels down to my flat abdomen. The feeling of his touch is now foreign to me; funny, how it used to feel natural while being intimate with him.

Not anymore.

His black-gloved hand puts light, tender pressure on my lower stomach. I let out a breathless gasp in surprise of his touch.

"You…" he breathes. "You're…"

He knows before it even begins. He _senses_ it.

"Mia," he murmurs in disbelief.

He looks at my abdomen, his hand still feeling my stomach, his face in utter bewilderment.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you," my voice is trembling.

"You couldn't…" he trails off. " _You couldn't tell me_?" he then growls, "How long have you known?"

"You don't understand," I said. "You've been so lost, Ben. You've been so far away and I feared that…"

He just stares at me, long and hard.

"It just feared that it wouldn't have been safe for the child if you knew."

He examines me, up and down, the hate in his eyes burning holes in my skin as he glares at me.

" _That child will be of the First Order_ ," he shouts. His voice is so growly, so gravely, so full of _hate_ , that I can feel it in my bones. The snow whips past his face, his hair a disarray. "We will raise it and it will follow in the footsteps of its father, and its grandfather before him."

"No," I say firmly, my voice cracking. "I would rather die."

We are both silent for a moment, staring at each other through the trees and blinding snow.

"Then so be it."

"Ben—"

Before I can event finish my sentence, he takes his gentle hand off of my abdomen and flings it into the air. He cups his hand in the air and I feel a tightening grip wrap around my neck, so constricting that I can feel the air being cut off from my trachea. He tightens his force choke on me and I gasp for air. He is so powerful, and his force is strong, stronger than anything I am capable of. I claw at my neck, at the invisible force that has me lifted off the ground, suspended in front of him, near death.

" _Ben_ ," I barely choke out. Tears stain my cheeks. " _Ben_!"

The darkness in his eyes do not falter but I see the guilt flicker across his face, if only for a second. But the guilt, the last _flicker_ of mercy, goes out like a fire on a windy night. The darkness has consumed him and the Ben Solo that I knew is lost. He is more machine now than man. Twisted and evil.

I gasp for air, as my throat gets tighter and tighter and tighter and—

and then I woke up.

On the same tattered and careworn cot, in the same decrepit, neglected, shabby cabin in the woods on Takodana.

My prison, casted out of paradise.

Sweat was slick on my brow and my body. Tears were streaking down my face. I'd been crying in my sleep.

I scolded myself for being so weak and I wiped my dirty face with the back of my hand. I laid back, staring at the barely-there stick-made ceiling, watching as the breeze made the trees shake and tremble in its wake. My chest heaved up and down as I tried to calm myself down. I stared up at those trees in between the ceiling and all I could think about was the times when it was _him_ that I was looking up at, staring into those dark eyes. I wished that I could have held onto that feeling in my dream, to be able to relive what it felt like to kiss him again and hold him and tell him that I was there and that the dark would never take him over. The time when I wasn't so alone.

The time where I didn't have to hide from him like a fugitive.

Who am I? I'm a nobody.

A failed jedi. Alone on this planet.

A high price on me to be taken to the First Order. He's searched for me but he'll never find me.

I gently placed a hand on my soon-to-grow abdomen, and the terrifying realization hit me again.

I shut my eyes.

 _He is the darkness to your light…_

 **(A/N:)** just fiddling with a storyline about a girl who once had a relationship with Ben Solo, otherwise known as Kylo Ren, before and while he turned to the Dark Side. Thank you for reading and would love to know what you think! x


	2. A Note

**!**

Hey guys!

Just a quick little heads up, a bunch of people have written me saying that there was a troll (user is noteasyramen), saying that my story is Mary-Sueish and that it's boring or whatever. Hey, that's their opinion, that's OK! It's fan fiction, it's not my "original", "independent" work. It's for fun.

But one thing I don't like is _LIARS_ , and the fact that noteasyramen posted saying that I "quit". **I have not quit.**

For a while on this site, I didn't post because I have been plagiarized from on this site 5 times and I was afraid of my work getting stolen again, and now I'm being attacked for no reason, so yeah, it's a little frustrating, especially when this person is saying that I said:

 **"I see your point now. I will try to rewrite this story somehow with an existing person in the saga, you didn't have to make so many posts about it though, and could have simply messaged me about it, but I see now that OCs are stupid in this fandom. Don't ever contact me again though"**

also they keep insisting that I have spoken to them about deleting my story, lying and saying that I'm lying… I haven't at all.

Like…. _no_? I didn't say that at all and I just found out that this is happening because I have a life outside of writing fanfic?

Please ignore this user guys. If you like my story, great! If not, don't feel pressure to read. I publish it because I like writing it and think that maybe someone will enjoy it, too.

I've seen and dealt with too many mean people on this website to get angered at this. Ignore it. Thanks for being cool about it and letting me know.

I'm not quitting, and I don't plan on it. I'll have Chapter 2 up by Christmas Eve.

Speaking of which, Happy Holidays guys!

oh, and may the force be with you ;)


	3. II

II

The morning was humid and I had to drag myself out of my cot.

With sweat slick on my brow, I washed up in the basin and took in my face in the mirror above it. I felt my stomach cramp as I ran my fingers over the barely-there bump. I looked unhealthy, malnourished. My skin was very flushed, and my eyes had dark rings under them from so many sleepless, nightmarish nights. My hair was a tangled mess as I ran my hands through it in a failed attempt to comb it out, and pulled it up in a stubby ponytail.

Giving myself a disapproving glare in the mirror, I sighed. I undressed from my night clothes and stared at myself in the mirror. Gangly body, bruised and worn. Tired. With tears stinging in my eyes, I gently turned to see the scar that I never wanted to look at but was always painfully reminded was there.

The shiim, the wound from the edge of the lightsaber's blade, cracked through the flesh of my leg, the growing scar tissue still healing it. It had been a month and a half since I battled him that night—in which I had lost—and it was still healing.

 _His_ lightsaber's blade.

That was the last time I spoke to him.

These sleepless nights had to stop.

He was the gaping hole in my chest, and the empty the side of the bed. He was the silence that I laid in every night, staring up at the night sky. He was the nighttime fear I had before I went to sleep, and he was the devastation I felt every morning when I woke up alone. He was always in my head and I was barely surviving. _  
_

After dressing in my brown tunic and gathering up my knapsack for the day, I left my cabin and trudged toward the shore of the lake with heavy feet and an even heavier mind. The dream I dreamt never ceased to be disturbing to me. It haunted me when I was awake and when I was asleep. It never made sense but even so, it felt real.

 _Too_ real.

" _I know what I have to do… but I don't think I have the strength to do it._ "

His voice lingered in my ears long after the dream was over.

He nearly killed me that night.

 _"Would you leave me if you knew what I'd done?" he'd asked me._ _"Would you leave me if you knew what I'd… what I'd become? Would you hate me?"_

His eyes—and the darkness that dwelled in them—had been so real in the dream. The glare that he gave me, his voice when he spoke—it was like he was there, there beside me. When I touched his face and felt his body pressed to mine I could have _sworn_ he was there. I wouldn't have been surprised if I had woken up beside him, it felt so real.

 _Don't be so weak,_ I scolded myself as I walked through the woods. _Don't be such a fool._

That was the funny thing—I _was_ a fool.

I had to face what I feared. I couldn't choose what stayed and what faded away; I couldn't drag him back to the Light.

But I couldn't face that fear.

Thinking that he could _ever_ be the same again, thinking that he could come back from the dark. Thinking that maybe I could change him. Thinking that this machine, this monster, would ever be a man again. Blood didn't run through his veins anymore. He ran on gasoline. He was part machine; not a human. He was bloodthirsty and sick and aggressive and a _savage_. I knew he couldn't and I knew that he never would, but deep inside of me cradled that thought, that eerie, nostalgic reminder, of who Ben Solo used to be.

But not all thoughts, not all memories of him, were nostalgic.

At times, I swear I could still feel his Force choke's hold on my neck. I could still remember the hatred and abhorrence in his voice the last time I spoke to him.

I was grasping onto him, a part of him that wasn't there anymore, a ghoulish, haunting reminiscence of days gone by. I knew it was foolish of me but I couldn't help myself.

Now he was Kylo Ren, a masked, disturbing, enigmatic facade of a man.

Kylo Ren… leader of the Knights of Ren. Known throughout the galaxy to be the bloodthirsty, temperamental maniac in charge of the First Order. I was carrying the offspring of that monster, of that _machine_. It made it all more painful that I was carrying it inside of me when the very man who put it there had tried to kill me.

Funny, how a person can become so drastically changed.

Ben and I had grown up together.

My parents, once having fought in the Battle of Endor with his parents, Han Solo and Leia Organa, died when I was very young. Having been orphaned, I was taken under the wing of the Solo family, but tried to strive on my own. Ben was six years older than me—and far more gifted with the Force than I ever was. I was never confident in my abilities with the Force, but felt that I could certainly hold my own with a lightsaber.

Because of his bewildering promise in both the Force and the lightsaber, Ben taught me everything I knew.

There I was, ten-year-old me, being taught by a teenaged Ben Solo, showing me all that _he_ knew. He protected me and trained me.

He was a different person then.

He was funny and awkward and good and _powerful._ He was not a master of anything yet, as he himself was being trained by Luke Skywalker, but everyone was so astounded and impressed with his power. I needed his help, and those times when we practiced were the best times of my life.

We laughed and we pretend-fought together, and in the end he almost always beat me, unless he jokingly let me win. When I got older and better, and more powerful, he was proud of me.

I'd be relentless with that lightsaber and the first time I knocked him on his feet, he stared up with me in shock as I stood over him, breathing heavily with adrenaline pumping through my veins.

"I knew it," he'd laughed, bewildered that I'd beat him. "You have it in you."

With his guidance and watching me practice, I grew stronger.

We battled and trained with one another as we grew up. We explored the forests of Endor as kids. We fooled around and got into trouble and Ben fooled people with the Force. We trained and talked about how one day we would become heroes of the galaxy. There was this light in him, so much of it; but looking back on it now, there were glimpses, _whispers_ , of his predilections to the Dark Side early on. Not blatant, but they were there.

He spoke darkly of his parents as he grew older.

I knew Han ran away from him and Leia's arguments, as Ben had told me as such; and for this reason he often considered Han Solo a disappointment as a father. There were times when he was training me when it would get severe; that darkness channeled within him would show up in his eyes as he battled me with our lightsabers. He'd go too far, get too close for comfort. One time, he got so into it, that he Force-threw me to the ground. It knocked the wind out of me and shocked me to the core.

He said he was sorry, that he didn't know what came over him.

And now I know.

As he grew older, he grew more infuriated and more agitated. The Ben I knew was slowly slipping away, like blood dripping between my fingers. Ben Solo became this brooding, darkly emotional man that I didn't know. I tried to help him, I tried to call him back to the light.

He never did.

Our childish banter and close friendship from when we were kids was suddenly replaced with hormones and emotions and things I didn't understand. I grew older, too, and I became more connected to him. Our bond became stronger than ever and things happened very quickly.

Before I knew it, I was nineteen and I got a tingle in my palms and my cheeks got hot whenever I was around him. What happened between us happened out of thin air; so quickly that it took even me by surprise. Our friendship matured into a relationship. By the time I was twenty and he twenty-six, I laid with him at night and battled and trained with him in the day.

I had loved him, more than anything.

He was all I had.

He was a hurricane; a walking disaster. Insane _. Deranged._

He was tearing himself apart.

I'd been tempted to turn to the Dark Side, the way he looked at me that night. Those dark eyes, baring into me, his hand raised as he used the Force on me.

 _"Don't be afraid…" he'd said soothingly. "You're so lonely…I feel it within you."_

 _"Get out…" I choked out, severe pain coursing through my head. "Get out of my head."_

 _"Stay here with me. Don't be afraid. Don't turn away from the dark. We will be here, together…"_

 _His black-gloved hand, trembling, reached out for me to take. I stared into his eyes with tears in mine. I slowly shook my head._

 _"I… I can't."_

 _"You will," he said calmly. "The Supreme Leader is wise. You'll understand in time."_

 _I reached out for his hand… the temptation to take that hand and be with him and knowing that I couldn't was so painful that I felt shooting pain throughout my chest and my head throbbed._

 _I shook my head, crying. "No…"_

 _"Mia," he implored, reaching out for me. "Don't be afraid."_

 _"I'd rather die than turn to the Dark," I choked out._

 _Those were the hardest words I ever had to speak._

 _His lip trembled and his eyes clouded with hate and tears. "Then so be it."_

 _We'd fought and he scarred me._

I hadn't even told him I was pregnant. He Forced his way into my mind, into my brain, into my consciousness and my _thoughts_. I tried not to let him in, I tried so _hard_ to push him out, but he was too powerful, and my nose bled and I relented. I let my guard down.

 _"That child," he had snarled at me, his eyes crazed with hatred and a hand grazing over my abdomen, "Belongs to me."_

That's the last time I spoke to him. That's when he put the high price on my head from the First Order. The most terrifying thing about it, to me at least, was that he didn't put the price on my head for dead—he put the price on me _alive_. What was he going to do if he got his hands on me alive?

I guess he didn't want anybody to slaughter me but him. Or maybe, he wanted to have the child be born… _then_ slaughter me like a wampa massacring a tauntaun.

I was a fugitive… an notorious enemy and rebel of the First Order.

A "traitor", a rebel who held the power of Kylo Ren's offspring.

 _A threat to him._

Stranding me on Takodana was General Organa's choice—not a punishment—but for safety. After Ben turned on everyone who loved him—most notably poor Han and Leia—and attacked, the Resistance put me into hiding like a fugitive. And there I was, hiding away on Takodana, living in the woods and only traveling into Maz Kanata's castle for food and to rarely see her for goods she'd smuggled. It was foolish of me to go to Maz's castle, seeing as there were those who were loyal to the First Order, but I tried to keep out of others' way and tried to keep a low profile. My trips were hasty and quiet, and very rare.

I made my way through the gates of Maz's castle.

The castle attracted and catered to aliens and droids and people of every trade—smugglers, pirates, travelers, vagabonds. I had to be careful.

 _That's what you are now,_ my mind taunted me. _A vagabond. A nobody. Stranded on this planet for the rest of your days. You'll never see him again._

Nothing I wanted more than to live a normal life. I wanted things to be the way they were. I wanted Ben to still be with me; I wanted him to teach me more and eventually teach our child. I wanted him to be with the Light. I never wanted him to choke me or try to harm me or anybody else. I never wanted this. I just wanted him back.

But foolish thinking breeds foolish desires.

I walked into the cantina and did my best to avoid eye contact with its patrons. Spotting Maz, I ventured over to her and she greeted me with a squint behind her goggles and a knowing smile.

"Ah, Mia," she sighed, giving me a once-over squint. "Good to see you, my dear. I'm sure you need something, desperately."

"You too, Maz," I smiled at her sadly. "I'm sorry that I don't have much time. I can't stay. Not to be abrupt, but if I could get the medicene and be on my way I would be very grateful."

"I know," she said. "I understand. But there is someone here who I think you should see."

I scrunched my brows at her in confusion, "What?"

"Follow me."

Knowing not to argue with someone as wise as Maz Kanata, I obliged and followed her.

She took my hand and dragged me through the crowds of pirates through the cantina. The music was loud and cheerful and everyone inside this bar looked more shady than the next as they drank and spoke to one another. I'd been isolated for so long that I wasn't used to such commotion. She dragged me to a table where three people and a circular droid were sitting.

I felt my heart throbbing against my ribcage, like it was going to burst out of my chest, and my palms begin to sweat.

Han Solo stood up from his seat at the table. He had a weary, haggard look on his face.

"Mia."

* * *

A/N: Thank you for those who show support due to the weird events and trolling that's been going on for reasons I know not why. I have no clue why this is happening, it's never happened before. I'm just as bewildered by it as you are and after this author's note I just want to be done with this because I'm getting sick of it. _Disclaimer: I have absolutely no association with this person and have never had any interaction. I've been on this website since '09 and I'm just trying to write in peace like I normally do._ I'm going to keep writing this story because I enjoy it and I hope you enjoy it too. Merry Christmas to you guys and may the force be with you. x


	4. III

III

I turned and began walking away.

"Mia!"

The music was loud as I charged back through the cantina, through the chattering and musings of droids and aliens and smugglers and thieves, sauntering quickly through the misfit tavern like a vagabond. Like someone running from their life. Like an outcast, a weakling.

A fool.

"Goddamnit! _Mia_!"

I felt Han's feeble, weakened hand grab my elbow and yank me around.

I sighed, looking away from him. "I need to go."

"You can't…" he sighed. " _We_ can't just keep running away from this," Han said, his voice low. "No matter how much we want to."

"I can," I said. "I _have_. And I've been just fine."

"You call hiding out in a hut in the woods _fine_? You think that will really save you? There's no running from this. I know that now, kiddo. I've come to terms with it and now you need to do the same. You can't run anymore. Things…" he sighed. " _Circumstances_ have changed."

I didn't say anything. I knew he was right.

"Mia, look at me. Look at me, will ya?"

I turned to look up at his aged, tired face. I saw all the sadness in the universe in his eyes, which hosted black circles under them. So restless, so troubled. Careworn. And in him I saw Ben, the same nose, the same eyes, the same sadness and exhaustion. Han's features softened and he reached to my face, cupping it in his wrinkled hand. I shut my eyes and leaned into his hand, seeking the comfort that I had so dearly missed.

"Han…"

Tears squeezed out of my eyes and stung them, my lip quivering. I threw my arms around him and clung to him; he was stiff at first, but then eased up under my embrace, gently hugging me back.

"It's alright, kiddo," he murmured gruffly, patting my back. "It's alright."

"I'm so tired," I whispered, releasing and looking to Han.

Han's brows arched in pity. "I know."

I looked down, reluctantly, at my abdomen. "I… I need to go. I need to get outta here."

"Wait, kid," Han begged, taking me by the elbow again. "Hear me out."

"I'm not safe here," I said irritably. "And neither are you. You _know_ that."

" _Kid_ ," he said. "Listen. Just come with me."

"What could I do?" I asked him. "I've tried before. I tried to get him to come to the light and he… he scarred me. He's too far gone, I can't get him back. He won't listen to reason."

"You are his weakness," he said. "You know you are. As much as I didn't believe it… there's still light in him. I hope that much."

I stared up at Han, unsure.

Han brought me back to the round table in which he, Maz, the round droid and two others sat. The others, a boy and girl, looked to be perhaps a bit younger than I, and looked to me with curiosity and bewilderment.

"Mia," Han began, "This is Finn, Rey, and that's BB-8."

We made our acquaintances and our greetings.

"Why… why am I here?" I asked as I sat down. "I appreciate you asking for my help, but I… I can't be of help. I'm threatening all your lives by being here. The First Order has spies everywhere. They'll be here in a blink and then they'll slaughter us and it'll be a bloodbath. Don't be foolish. Don't endanger yourselves like that."

"They're on our tails already," Rey explained. "BB-8… me. Finn. They're after all of us. You aren't alone."

 _Then why do I feel so alone?_

"Why?" I asked. "Why are they after you?"

"BB-8," Rey said, gesturing to the small droid. "He holds part of a map that may lead to Luke Skywalker. The First Order won't stop until they get it."

I turned to Han. " _Luke Skywalker_?"

"How do all of you know this guy?" Finn chimed in.

BB-8 rolled around and beeped, looking expectantly at me.

Han nodded somberly. That wound would always be fresh; it would _never_ heal.

"We need…" he let out a heavy sigh. "We need to get them to Leia, to the Resistance. You need to come with me."

I looked at him, worried, then turned to Rey. "I'm sorry. I haven't seen nor heard of Luke Skywalker since I was little. I have nothing to give you. I can't be of any help. If anything, I would just drag you down. I'm a danger to you all."

"You have everything to give," Han quipped, "Don't _you_ be a fool."

"Don't you understand that Leia put me in hiding so I would be safe?" I asked him. "And now—"

"And now things have changed," Han interrupted. "We need you. It's foolish to think that you can't help."

I glared at him. "Is it truly foolish to hide from someone like Kylo Ren?"

" _Mia_ ," Maz implored. "You have to understand that the galaxy needs you. You can help them destroy the First Order. You can help them to destroy Ren."

"I wish I could, I do," I said. "But I need to go—"

Maz clipped her goggles on more securely; she magnified her eyes and the tiny black dots that once were her eyes became large and very intrusive. She climbed onto the table, crawling across it towards me. "Uh… what's she doing?" Finn asked quietly, looking at all of us, bewildered.

"You carry his weakness inside of you," Maz began, taking my hand in her small, cold one. "That child… it will bring light to its father if you make it so."

I felt my heart throb like a fresh bruise in my chest, and my lip tremble, trying to keep my composure. I looked to Han, who nodded at me in turn.

"You are the wound in his side, don't you understand? His weakness, his call to the light… _you_ are the light to his darkness," she stopped in front of me and squinted harder, looking into my eyes with suspicion and pity. "You are so very afraid, my dear child. As you should be."

Tears stung the sides of my eyes. She was right, as much as I did not want to hear it.

"Your eyes… they are not one of a happy young girl. But that goes without saying, I'm afraid," Maz mused on, squinting harder and harder. "You seek the salvation and happiness that you once had, don't you? But I'm afraid you will not find it unless you allow yourself to forgive him… unless you try to bring him to the Light. You… You are so sad. It's tragic, it is, how you let yourself be so afraid of him when you can bring him back… you want to help, but you are perhaps too cowardly to face him—"

"I am no _coward,_ " I erupted, standing up from the table. "I've had enough." I sighed, trying to calm myself down. "I'm so sorry. I wish you nothing but the best, but I cannot help you. I'll only make things worse. The First Order will be here soon. I need to go."

I turned to Han. "I'm sorry, Han. I'm sorry."

I got up from the table and made my way back through the cantina, walking quickly. I ran down the steps of the castle and through it's gates, up into the woods. I ran through the thickets and ferns and bramble bushes, scampering through those woods with tears glassing over my eyes.

 _"Don't be afraid. You're so lonely…"_

His voice in my head hauntingly taunted me as I ran through those woods.

And I heard the ships coming.

The First Order.

My pulse rattling my entire body, shaking it to its core, I had never felt so panicked. I sprinted through the woods, faster, _faster_ , jumping over branches and fallen trees and viciously pushing aside hanging vines and ferns. Tears began blinding my vision but I blinked them away.

 _Don't be weak,_ I scolded myself. _Just go._ _Run, run, run,_ run.

My heart throbbed and my chest hurt, sweat slick on my forehead when I final reached the home. I threw open the door and sank to the floor, shutting my eyes and burying my face in my knees as I scrunched them close to my body, hugging myself for comfort. The thought of seeing him, of confronting him… just when I was beginning to understand that I had to accept that I would never see him again. It was like getting stabbed in the stomach, over and over and over until I had no more blood to give.

I felt it.

I felt _him_.

I looked around my hut and saw that my dingy homestead was absolutely ransacked. My cot was overturned, papers that I had written on were thrown everywhere, the carpet was tossed aside in a corner and the flowers in the dirty glass on the overturned table were thrown to the ground in a puddle of dirty water.

I stood up, carefully and slowly, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand.

I slowly walked into the other room. Darkness engulfed the room, where I saw nothing; but as I turned back around and looked back towards the room in which I slept, I saw him.

He stood there, intimidatingly tall, in all black, his Kylo Ren mask staring back at me with an eerie, chillingly blank stare. My heart trembled in my chest and I felt my face flush, all color draining from it. My blood ran cold and I felt like I was going to die.

"You're afraid. I can feel it," the deep, dark voice snarled from behind the mask, blinding me from seeing the difference between the man and the machine. "Your fear betrays you. It always did."

With tears brimming my red-rimmed eyes, and before I could even _try_ to use the Force to get my lightsaber that was now on the floor by the overturned table, he brought up his hand and my throat tightened until I felt as though it had closed up. I was brought up off the ground, dangling in the air. I tried to breathe, tried to claw at the invisible hands around my neck, and eventually he let me down and I fell in a heap to the ground.

Gasping for breath, I tried to pick myself up. I looked to him with hate in my eyes. "You are not that mask, and you never will be, Knight of _Ren,"_ I mocked him. "You are an always will be Ben Solo, a Skywalker. Kill me if you will but you will _never_ fool me into thinking you are that mask."

He brought his hand up once more and I felt a crippling, unbearable weight fall upon and crush me, like someone was squeezing my entire body, as if I was going to die.

I felt sick, trying to keep him out of my mind. My veins bulged in my face and I bared my teeth, trying desperately to shut him out.

"Get… get out of my _head…_ "

He knew me. I hate how he knew me.

He knew how to get deep inside of me, to the deepest corners of my mind, to the darkest corners of my soul were I kept so much locked up and buried deep.

His lithe form crossed the room like a ghost, slowly, and the Force on me intensified; he brought me to my knees, his hand hovering over me. His other hand grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. I stared up at him, begging and searching for any sort of mercy in his eyes as I shrieked and whimpered as I was forcefully made to kneel at his feet.

"Maybe now it will be easier to find you, now that there will be two heartbeats instead of one," he mused, his hand gently hovering over my abdomen, "You've kept it safe while we've been apart. Good."

Tears flew down my cheeks and I couldn't even find the strength to blink them away.

" _Shut up_ ," I choked out. " _Get out! Get of my head_!"

I stared up at that mask and devastation and anger coursed through my veins.

Tears streaked down my cheeks as I gasped for release and to breathe as his hand hovered over my face. My breathing heavy and short, I thought this was the end. He found me and now I was going to die.

"You thought you could hide, in this little hut, in this little forest kingdom," he mocked in that deep, inhuman voice, and I knew that behind that wretched, black, disturbing mask he was smiling. "You know it, too, don't you? You're thinking it… oh, I see it. I feel everything you feel. I see what you see. I know every part of you, and I know that you know you can _never_ hide from me, Mia, no matter how hard you try, no matter how far you go."

His hold on me intensified and I shouted out in pain, the invisible grip on me becoming so unbelievably painful that I thought I was going to vomit.

"I've searched _everywhere_ … I've searched all over for you," he said, crouching to meet my gaze. I tearfully looked at the mask and choked out a sob, looking into the face of Kylo Ren. Not Ben.

"And I've come to burn your kingdom down."

* * *

Thank you for reading, and happy New Year! x


	5. IV

IV

"You're _killing_ me, Mia."

I glared at him, narrowing my eyes in irritation.

"Or should I say, youngling? Kid? _Young padawan_?"

"Shut _up_."

" _Little_ padawan?"

"Ben, I'm gonna slug you."

"Big talk from a little padawan."

" _Ben_!"

"What? You _are_ my padawan."

"I'm _not_ little!"

"You're thirteen."

"That doesn't mean I'm little."

"I know you're littler than an Ewok, but I know you can do better than _that_."

"At least I'm not a nerf herder."

He smirked at me, running a hand through his long, untidy dark hair, his eyes narrowed. "Who're you calling a nerf herder?"

Thirteen year old me, a training and very young Jedi-to-be with no family, against nineteen year old Ben Solo, born into the Skywalker family, already a skillful and impressive Jedi-to-be.

" _You_ , Solo."

I thought I stood _no_ chance.

I grunted and stepped forward, lurching and leaning my body quickly as I dodged his saber and tried to strike him; he had that smug grin on his face that made me want to punch his lights out. I slashed and lacerated the air, trying my best to fight him. He effortlessly eluded my attacks, and brought his hand up and clutched the air; I felt a sudden push back and I skidded on my heels backwards.

"You're using the force," I arched a brow and brought up my saber, "That's not fair."

"Then push back," he encouraged. "Feel it within you and push _back_. Strike me down, Mia. Use the force."

"It isn't strong with me," I looked at him worriedly. "You know that. I can't use it like you do."

"You say that," Ben said. "Because you refuse to feel it within you."

I stared down at my hand and clenched and re-clenched my fist. I shut my eyes, took a deep breath, and focused. I scrunched my brows together with intensity, trying my hardest to think, to focus, to channel what I was feeling. Channel the power that I felt inside of me. Searching for strength, for determination, I opened my eyes and raised my hand up, cupping it in the air at Ben, and brought my hand forward, shifting my body weight on my right leg as I lunged forward.

Ben choked out a gasp and staggered backwards.

"Again _,_ " he ordered.

I focused harder, clearing my thoughts and shutting my eyes. I bent forward, forcing against him, my hand tightening.

He staggered farther back, this time, with more anguish.

Or perhaps anger.

" _Again_!"

I clenched my teeth as my head began to throb with pain. The veins in my forehead bulged and I lunged foreword again and brought my hand forward, grunting in pain as I tried my hardest to force against him.

With an agonized gasp, he stumbled backwards once more, this time almost knocking him to his feet.

" _Again, Mia! Again!_ "

I shut my eyes. Took a deep breath.

Focus. Focus. _Focus_.

I thrusted my hand upwards, grunting out in pain as power and anguish throbbed through my veins like a disease. Ben groaned aloud, like he'd been punched in the stomach very hard, and flew backwards onto the floor, skidding on the floor as he landed. His saber falling from his grasp and ending up a few feet away from him, he looked at me, impressed.

"Good, I-"

Before he could speak, I took his vulnerability for granted and charged at him, careful with my movements; it was so precise and so tactful it was almost elegant.

Almost.

With shock and bewilderment, Ben saw me charging and just in time, outstretched his hand, using the Force to grab his saber from the floor. Effortlessly, the saber flew into his hand and ignited, just in time to block my saber's blow. Ben stumbled, quickly rising to his feet, just barely, and he and I began fighting across the large room.

Every time our sabers clashed, one of us pressed harder against each others'. The tension was tangible. We stepped gracefully but hungrily, _hungry_ to defeat one another, as we dueled. He raised his hand and Force-pushed be backwards; I stumbled, whips of blond hair falling in my eyes, causing me to lose my bearings.

My eyes grew wide in terror as he jumped and spun around, bringing his saber down upon me, barely missing my neck. I stumbled backwards and fell to the floor, rolling over just in time to miss the second blow; I was trying not to get disorientated, trying not to get intimidated by him.

But I would not give up.

I could feel the Force within him. A _darkness_ ; a relentlessness that no Light could ever satisfy.

I jumped to my feet and watched in awe as he spun his lightsaber, effortlessly, watching me from behind that mop of black hair with a smug smile crossing his face. Spinning that lightsaber was his favorite thing to do in a battle, a cocky, arrogant sign of how good he thought he was. It annoyed me when I was a kid, but who was I kidding?

He was a savage, powerful fighter. He had every reason to be arrogant.

I jumped up as he swiped at my feet, and I brought my own saber down upon his shoulder but he blocked my blow. I Force-pushed him again, creating a bump to his chest that sent him to the floor once more. I took the chance and jumped at him, quickly, hitting his saber with my own with such force that it flew out of his hand and rolled by the doors.

My chest heaving and my ponytail in a disarray, I smirked down at him.

I planted my shabby, brown boot-clad foot on his chest and held my saber to him, the glow of it lighting up his shocked face, not believing that he had just lost.

"You believe in me, Master Solo," I said to him. "Your "little padawan" will not fail you. I just need more of your guidance."

A growing smirk crawled across his lips.

I shut off my saber and held my hand out to him to take, a smile on my own face. He slipped his hand into mine.

A duel of the fates - I the light, he the dark.

* * *

My head was throbbing when I woke up.

I felt sore everywhere. The lighting was very bright. I was strapped to a table… or perhaps a chair of some kind? My head felt trapped, and everything around me was blurry and disoriented when I peeled open my eyes; they fluttered open, trying my hardest to adjust to the light.

My head. My God, it _hurt_.

I winced as I blinked up into the light, and it was only then when I came to terms of where I was. I remembered. He had brought me to my knees. He had _found_ me; sniffed me out like a savage beast in the wild of the woods, desperately hunting for its prey until it was weak enough to strike.

Sheer panic gushed through my veins and my mind.

With the sudden remembrance, I tried to get up.

Get up, get up, _get up_.

I found it impossible.

I was strapped to a table that was upturned so that my body was straight up; my wrists and legs both had straps that were locked, preventing any funny business that might've flashed through my mind. Preventing me from being free and away from the maniac that was now known as Kylo Ren.

"Do you remember when you were training me, that time we were on Coruscant? **"**

I felt him.

When you know somebody that well, when you had loved them in such a way that you will never forget them no matter what they are or what they become or what they do to you… it's funny. You don't need the Force to sense him or any type of power to figure it out. He was there, lurking in the dark. He was always there.

I felt it in my bones.

"I was so little, and you had so much patience with me… you were so good to me. You taught me everything. You taught me how to fight, how to use a lightsaber… you were there for me when nobody else was. You protected me and watched out for me when I had nothing but the clothes on my back."

My voice was trembling in the silence of the cell. On this base.

Starkiller.

"And now you hide behind a mask," I whispered with a disappointed sigh. "Waiting to kill me."

I heard the thudding of heavy, clunky boots, his footsteps, come out from the dark corners behind me. He came to face me, close, his mask staring at me light some kind of nightmarish creature from Tatooine. I stared straight into the eyes of the helmet, unsmiling, unrelenting.

"You're unhappy," he said, his voice muffled by the nefarious-looking black mask.

He strode closer to me and I felt my heart overflow, throbbing so hard I was afraid he would hear it.

I nodded.

"Take it off," I said softly.

The masked face of Ben Solo stared at me for a minute before slowly reaching up to the helmet and disengaging it. Carefully but swiftly, he took it off, revealing his face that I had so longed—and feared—to see.

After not seeing him for so long, seeing his face made my blood run cold and my chest tighten.

Memories flooded my brain.

That thick, long black hair. The dark, so _very_ dark brown eyes filled with bewilderment, fear, and sadness, and those purple and black circles of exhaustion that hung underneath them. The tiniest of smirks resided on his pale face.

All I could see was that ghoulish, empty darkness in his eyes.

The weakness, the fear, the uncertainty.

The sadness.

Han was right—there was still light in him. I could see it, and it _tortured_ me.

This was not the face of a villainous, evil man, but that of a scared, confused man who was being torn apart.

"Ben Solo is… "

"Do not dare tell me you are dead and that you don't remember," I said. "I know you remember. You remember running around the city streets after dark, even though we kept getting in trouble. You were going to be a Jedi. I was going to be a Jedi, Ben. We were going to do something _good_."

Our childhoods were one big adventure.

Exploring Endor like it was our playground and reluctantly leaving it to begin training in Coruscant, the planet that was practically made up of one big city. The city where I was trained, the city where I was believed in and encouraged and given hope. The city where I slowly fell into this weird feeling of emotion for him, this weird emotion that haunted me until the day that I confronted it and he kissed me for the first time on the floor after nearly killing me in a light saber duel when I was eighteen. Memories flooded me as I stared at his pale, handsome face, staring back at me blankly like we were strangers passing each other by.

How could… how could that person who I was raised with be this savage machine, this monster, this _man_ , in front of me now?

He remembered—he did, I knew it—because a smile grew on his face as he thought about what we were all those years ago.

Where were we now?

His smile disappeared slowly, like he was mentally killing the memory but felt guilty doing it. Like he was finally letting it go. He straightened himself up and his face grew serious and his eyes grew dark.

"Those days," he said with a sigh, "Those days… they're dead. And so is Ben Solo."

No Force-choke was as painful as when he said that.

I shut my eyes and hung my head, tears stinging the sides of my swollen, red-rimmed eyes. He reached out and cupped my chin in his black-gloved hand, gripping it and forcibly making me look up at him. He looked at me with no expression, but his eyes betrayed him; guilt plagued him, a flash, a glimmer of mercy flickered in those dark brown eyes that had once looked at me.

"You _aren't_ dead," I choked out. "There's still light in you. I know it. I feel it. And I know you can feel it, too. Why don't you just admit it?"

"No," he snapped, holding my chin tighter, giving me a little shake. "There _is_ no _Light_. Only Dark. Why don't you _understand_?"

"I understand that you feel the call to the Light," I said. "Don't deny it. Don't say that to me when you know I know it isn't the truth."

"I feel no call," he snarled. "You underestimate what I am. Who I am. I am the leader of the Knights of Ren!"

"You are Ben Solo!" I snapped at him. "The son of Princess Leia Organa and war hero Han Solo! And that will never change."

He looked at me as if I'd just insulted him. "I am more powerful than them. They mean nothing to me."

"This is not a measure of power," I snapped. "That's where you are confused."

"You underestimate me."

"No. I know you. I know your power; you are strong with the Force but you… you're so misplaced. You're lost!"

'I'm not lost!" he defended himself. "The Supreme Leader is wise. You'll understand in time."

"You're lying," I spat back, lunging out at him against my restraints, tugging against the straps that imprisoned me. "Snoke is using you for your power. _You_ are the one who doesn't understand, Ben. You need to see it before it's too late."

He looked confused—overwhelmed—by my words. "I—"

"You know just as well as I do that you will never be your grandfather. You will _never_ be Darth Vader. You need to stop trying to be, because what he was… it was unattainable. You are and never will be like him, no matter how hard you try. You have the Light, I see it in your eyes. You feel the call to it, something Vader never had. He was every dark corner in this galaxy who was hateful and cruel and a _murderer_ —"

" _Shut up_!" he shouted, letting me go. He stumbled backwards and raised up his hand and began Force-pushing me. "I've been searching for you and now that I've got you, you will tell me where the Resistance base is. And you _will_ lead me to that droid."

My brows furrowed in sadness as pain rattled my bones. I gasped, my breaths short and quick as my body violently trembled in the confines of the chair I was strapped to. "You keep trying to escape the Light, Ben. The Light is the only place where you will be truly happy, where people truly love you. There is _nothing_ for you here."

Tears glazed over his eyes and in that second I saw Ben Solo, not Kylo Ren.

"It's too late," he whispered, his own hand shaking. He turned away.

He couldn't even _look_ at me.

"It's never too late," I said to him, gasping out for breath. "It never is."

"It is," he urged, his voice cracking.

"Ben," I said, "Look at me."

He bowed his head and tightened his grip.

" _Ben_ ," I shouted at him, my voice echoing in the cell. " _Look at me_!"

With an agonized gasp, he dropped his hand and his invisible grip on me. I breathed heavy and looked up at him with tears running down my face and sweat slick on my brow.

"I love you. I will, always. _Just come back_ ," I choked out, my voice desperate, _begging_. "Come _home_. "

Tears streaked down his face and clouded the darkness of his eyes, his lip trembling.

He was bewildered I still harbored any sense of love for him.

He stared at me with that same flicker of mercy, of guilt, and he approached me. I watched him cross the room. He towered over me, with his broad, brawny frame; he looked down at me. I searched his eyes.

"I know it's too late," he repeated. "I don't know what to do, I don't know where to go… but if I go where I am called to, to the Light… there is no forgiveness, no redemption… there's no salvation for all these things that I've done."

"There _is_ ," I urged, smiling sadly up at him. "Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that. You weren't made to be doing this. You know it."

"I miss you," he said lowly, his eyes searching mine, tears still glazed over them.

"Come back," I whispered again. "Don't let this take over you completely. There's still time."

Taking me by surprise, he pressed his forehead to mine and shut his eyes tightly, tears streaming down his face. I shut my eyes, too, and trembled as he raised his hand to cup my cheek as he did so. Feeling his touch, feeling him here with me, we were so close.

And yet, I felt like he was still so far away, in another world.

He kissed me, taking a fistful of my hair and grasping the back of my neck. My chest heaved up and down, panicked at the sudden intimacy. In that second everything felt right.

Everything felt normal.

He deepened the kiss and tears still creeped down my cheeks, hitting our interlocked lips.

When we broke away, he pressed his forehead to mine once more, shutting his eyes. "I don't know where to go Mia."

"Just let me help you," I said. "Ben, let me get you out of here. We can leave this place, together, now, and go home. Why can't you see that it's that simple? We can leave this place, you and me, right here, right now."

"Things are never that simple," he murmured, looking up at me from under his dark lashes. "Things never have been that easy. Not for me."

"It _is_ that simple," I said. "Give it a chance. Go away with me. We need to leave here."

He was going to cave. He was going to give in. He was so close.

He kissed me again, but then broke away very angrily, recoiling from me like I'd stabbed him, like something had hurt him. He glared up at me with hate and I stared at him, hopeless.

"It's never too late to change," I said to him, my lip quivering and my cheeks wet with tears. "Just _listen_ to me, Ben. Just like I used to listen to you."

"Your mind games won't work on me," he growled, irritated, staring down at me like I was the scrum under his boots. "You had me fooled, but I know you, Mia. I know what you're doing."

"I—"

He raised his hand.

"Ben, _wait_ —"

I choked out gasps of breath, my entire body radiating with excruciating pain. The pain was relived, however, when he dropped the Force against me and instead began to read my mind. "You're worried. Scared," he breathed, and I could feel him inside of my mind, probing and prodding. He tilted his head and arched his brows as he read my mind. "You're worried that that child is going to become like me."

I choked out, shouting, "Get out of my head, Ben. _Get out of my head_. Get out!"

"It will," he said, ignoring my cries. "In time, it will. And so will you."

I stared up with him, my teacher, my friend, the father of the unborn _thing_ inside of me.

"You will come to the Dark Side," he said. "No matter what it takes."

"You're weak," I said. "And so is your faith in the Dark Side, no matter what you try to tell me, Ben. You've got no faith."

"We'll see."

I stared at him with all the hate and despair and sadness in my eyes.

"Don't be hateful of me. Don't be afraid," he said softly, his dark eyes feeling like they were burning holes in my skin. "It's only a change of time."

* * *

Sorry for such a while since I last updated! I've been doing original work for my CW classes at school! Hope you liked the little flashback between Mia and Ben at the beginning. Thank you to all those who showed me support and still read my story, even through the whole trolling fiasco. You guys are really wonderful people and I am blessed to have you read my story. For that, I thank you :) I hope you liked this one—thank you for reading! x


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